Monday, November 28, 2011

Tikkun Olam

About 6 or 8 months ago I learned this phrase, tikkun olam. It's Hebrew for perfect or repair the world and the idea is a huge tradition in Judaism. The phrase is new, but the idea is not. When you're a little kid, you learn that there are poor people in the world. So around Thanksgiving and Christmas when your school does their annual canned foods drive, you take cans from your mom's cupboard to donate. And maybe in the spring your school collects coins to give to some charity or another and you ask your dad for some of the coins in his change cup. You're worried about the people who don't sleep in a house or can't buy a winter coat. One day you realize, there are too many people in need, how can your 5 dollars in change possibly make a difference.

For me, even though I realized I could never help all the people in need I still felt obligated to help. I thought about what the world would be like if I didn't help, and what it would be like if the churches stopped caring, and what it would be like if Mother Theresa didn't devote her life to service. The world would be a worse place.  I knew from a young age that everyone has a responsibility to do whatever they can to help, because what is the alternative? Let the world slowly decline until everything is destroyed? Every time I learned about a new problem in the world, I would think "I have to do something! Someone has to do something!" I couldn't wait to get older so I could do something, I would get a job and give my money or get a job that was a life of service, then I could fix things. Sometime in junior high, I realized that I don't need to be an adult to help make things better. I started tutoring in junior high and did random service projects through my school. In high school, I was involved in more service groups and activities than just about anyone else in my school. Yeah, I was that girl who did everything on top of getting good grades. But I didn't see any alternative. I have the time and ability to help so why wouldn't I? It'd be selfish not to.

When I was 16, I made the decision to become a teacher. I made this decision in an instant, and I've never regretted it. For the next three years, so many people I went to school with told me how stupid it was to become a teacher. They said I was too smart to be a teacher. I should be a doctor or a lawyer, or anything that could make me some money. What a waste, they said, it was for me to "just be a teacher." How could anyone think that it's possible to be "just a teacher" and that it's not a noble profession? Teachers do so much for their students, and most of those students never appreciate it. People never realize how different their lives would be without each of their teachers. Everyone has at least one teacher who inspires them and challenges them to do more, to be more. And then they go out and affect other people, inspiring them to do more and to be more. They help someone and then that person helps someone else. The effects are endless, and most people never think about that. I want to be that person for a student or two.

While there are still a lot of people out there who think my career path is an easy way out, a less than noble profession, and that the service I've done in high school and continue to do in college doesn't make a difference, Judaism does not teach this. Judaism teaches that each person has a responsibility in the world, and that each generation must make the world a better place for the next generation. And Judaism places a special emphasis on education in order to do this. This oldest extant religion teaches that if you only know alef, bet, then you must teach bet to someone who only knows alef. For those of you not familiar with Hebrew, this teaching is simply about learning the alphabet: if you only know A and B, then teach B to someone who only knows A. Everyone has a responsibility and an obligation to pass on their knowledge so that the next person or next generation can ride on their shoulders and continue to improve the world. 

I'm studying to be a math teacher. I don't by any means love mathematics. But math is truly vital to functioning and succeeding in this world, and for so long I took my math education for granted. I have the ability to teach math in a way that others understand it, so I have a responsibility to become a mathematics educator. And along the way, I'll hopefully be able to inspire some kids to change the world in small but meaningful ways. And Judaism understands that, respects that, and encourages that.

Shortly after I started hanging out at Hillel on Friday nights, someone told me I should join Hillel's community service group, called Starfish. I immediately knew why it was called Starfish, I'd read the story somewhere long ago. If you don't know it, here it is:
The Starfish Story
Original Story by: Loren Eisley

One day a man was walking along the beach when he noticed a boy picking something up and gently throwing it into the ocean. 

Approaching the boy, he asked, “What are you doing?”

The youth replied, “Throwing starfish back into the ocean. The surf is up and the tide is going out. If I don’t throw them back, they’ll die.”

“Son,” the man said, “don’t you realize there are miles and miles of beach and hundreds of starfish? You can’t make a difference!” 

After listening politely, the boy bent down, picked up another starfish, and threw it back into
 the surf. Then, smiling at the man, he said…”I made a difference for that one.”

I joined this group without hesitation because it embodies everything I grew up believing about service to the world. My Jewish friends also believe in doing what you can to help others, and not one of them has ever told me that I should try to be more than just a teacher.

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